I laughed. I laughed at jokes that weren't meant for tropical fish like me. I laughed at jokes that I always thought I would never understand. I do. I get them more than I ever did with Rio. I walk these streets with a smile. I finally get all the the weirdly named intersections. Neighborhoods that are more like little towns on their own. At Ossington I smile, thinking about a rainy day when I was in love. At Union I no longer feel lost, it's my stage. At Islington I feel my blood flowing as I wonder whether he'll be waiting for me. College, nostalgia. Harbourfront, a longing for what never happened. Then there's the entire line one northbound, which I have just discovered. I go all the way up just to go down on her. Beaches, know them all. Nothing more relaxing than a Sunday at Hanlan's listening to Sun is Shinning and the weather is sweet. I've been naked in this city. Free from clothes, free from worry, free from fear. Free. I've always said that the choice between safety and freedom is a dumb one. You're not really safe if you are not free. You're not really free if you're not safe. I guess I am both. Safe and free. My safety is an oise(aux) on line two. My freedom, line one. I get to change lines not through the dark and messy corridors of Spadina, but through the ups and downs of St. George. It's almost like a cleanup. That much (n)oise. Sometimes I notice new places. They bring new people. I always preferred the Queen but boy did I love meeting King. Not because of King's posh bars of course, but because of all the queens I found there. Oh, how it amazes me. I walk down from Dundas to Shaw and I understand that I'm alone, yet perfectly accompanied by the birds, by the trees, by the people I haven't yet met. I'm writing in this odd language just to say how much I love you, Randall. I love taking that huge ferry to your Island and admiring my starfish while she cries over a swan. I love walking High (at the) Park holding his hands thinking of getting some Rocky Road. I love when he drives me away from randall, just so we can feel a little bit lost. I love sharing a cigarette on Bloor after dancing to the sounds of the Queen B. I love kissing the prettiest girl near the trains, knowing we'll only be a couple of kms apart. Holding her hands on the street and thinking fuck, we're free. I know she doesn't believe me, but sometimes freedom is compromise. I love myself here, Randall. I love that I found community, that I found support, that I found português, that I found a shoe that finally fits. I love that I don't hate the people I see, and that they don't care about me either. I love not dressing up. I love not asking him to dress up. It took me two hours to get home today and I did not care. Stuck in traffic and I did not care. I don't know if it's Randall's effect, or if it's the stage, if it's all the pretty girls, if it's me. I don't care. What I do know is that the cold never bothered me. The distance makes everything seem small. The fears that once controlled me, can't get to me at all. Yes, I know I'm borrowing those phrases. Be patient, I'm bye-lingual. En fait, trilingue. Mais je ne peux pas parler français chez randall. Pas Montréal! Il faux que je me sens où je suis. And using this goddamned language makes me feel even more yours, randall. I know, I know, you're colonial. Dish with One Spoon is what we hope for but so far only rich white people are eating. Like the tropics, you too are no Shangri-la. Actually, you do have a Shangri-la that I might be able to afford someday. Take the pretty girl for a night there. Or maybe he'll take me. For now, I'm good with taking the terrible transit commission system to and from. A starfish taught me to appreciate even the smelliest of TTC's cars. To always carry a book. To buy new headphones. I told her I'd live you, Randall. I told her I'd fight to feel the way I felt at Ossington, at Kensington, at the Island. I've been feeling, everywhere. And for now, I don't care that many of randall's townsfolk don't think I belong. I can't hear them, my headphones are blasting Brasil. I do belong, fixed English and all. Deal with it. This tropical fish ain't going anywhere, Randall. Just like you, I might have a thing for the tower. And I too shall become one.
